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Taking a careful bite, the filling still just a little too hot, Taly dropped her fried pocket pie back in the wrapper. Skye watched her. Closely. His mouth parting slightly as she detached a long string of hot cheese and popped it in her mouth.

“No,” she said, puffing around the filling scalding her mouth, trying to cool it. “You already had yours.”

“But yours looks better.”

“If you wanted leek and cheese, you should’ve ordered leek and cheese.”

“I thought you would at least let me try yours,” he shot back moodily, as if she were starving him. “I just want a bite.”

Taly snorted. That was how she’d lost half her fried noodles and most of the grilled eel. “Your bites are huge .” He made a grab for the pie, but she slapped his hand away. “I said no.”

“Please?”

But Taly just took another bite, this time really making sure to savor it.

A frown twisted his mouth. “You’re a cruel woman.”

She rolled her eyes. No one could pout quite like a shadow mage denied food. Going up on her toes, she glanced at the people ahead of them. One of the food carts had managed to get real venison, and the line stretched all the way down the block.

It was amazing what Ivain had managed to pull off—from the decorations to the music to the sheer amount of food.

It had come at a cost, no doubt. Taly could only imagine how deep into his supply he’d had to reach.

But for tonight, at least, it seemed worth it.

They’d had far too little cause for joy as of late.

“Hey!” a new voice called, and they both turned to find a familiar shock of red hair wending through the crowd. Kato said to Skye when he was close enough, “I need you.”

Skye arched a skeptical brow. “ Why ?”

Kato leaned in to whisper something that Taly didn’t catch. “What is it?” she asked when Skye went tense.

“Is he sure?” Skye asked.

“Right now, it’s just chatter,” Kato said. “Still, the Marquess wants us ready. Just in case.”

“Hello?” Taly said when both shadow mages continued to ignore her. “I’m still here, I think.”

Finally, Skye turned to her. “I need to go.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why?”

“A scout spotted shades near the outer wards,” he said, voice lowering. “It’s nothing, probably. But Ivain wants us at the wall.”

“Okay, yeah, sure,” Taly said—because what else could she say? Orders were orders, and Kato was already dragging him away.

They left, leaving Taly alone in the line. She took another bite of her pocket pie, only to find that her appetite had gone sour.

She glanced at the front of the line. How far it still stretched. And decided she didn’t care enough to wait.

She wandered for a bit, moving from stall to stall. But she saw neither Sarina, nor Aiden, nor anyone else she wanted to talk to, and since festivals were more fun with company, she eventually headed away from the crowd, disappearing into quieter streets.

She found the temple. It was decked out for the holiday—banners, lanterns, wreaths—but empty. The final mass for the Long Night had already concluded.

Inside, Taly welcomed the quiet, leaning back against the carved wood and taking a moment to breathe. The air smelled like incense and held that feeling of weight and expectation that always seemed to linger in places for the devout.

Stepping out of her shadow in the form of a small, black feline, Calcifer slipped away on cat-soft feet to check the aisles, then the pews, before disappearing into one of the many darkened doorways. He reappeared on the second balcony, long tail held aloft as he trotted along the railing.

Her bag of prizes clacking in the stillness, Taly pushed off the door and made her way down the aisle, footsteps muffled by the thick red carpets.

It was like any other temple—smaller and less grand than where she and Azura had held their lessons, but with the same seven statues standing resolute in an alcove at the far end, the central figure veiled.

Six wooden thrones towered on a dais. The main altar was made of stone and draped with red silk, the aisles spreading out in front of it in neat, tightly packed rows.

A smooth rock dome shaped from earth magic and colored glass capped the ceiling.

Beneath it, private boxes divided the upper balconies.

The largest, on the right and towards the front, belonged to Ivain.

Taly’s initials were carved into the railing, right next to Skye’s—TC and SLE.

Calcifer dropped from somewhere high-up, tail twitching as if to say all clear .

“Thanks,” she said. His tail gave another twitch as he fell in beside her. “Yes, you did that much faster than Skye would have.” Calcifer’s chest puffed up and stayed that way all the way down the main aisle.

Taly dropped her prizes, flinging open the first few buttons of her robe as she claimed a spot on the front pew. Calcifer jumped up beside her, and she idly scratched his head.

Behind the main altar stood the Sacred Six.

Up close, they were massive, at least three times her height, with gossamer wings at their back and gilded horns that caught the light like molten metal.

Well, all except for Lachesis. The goddess of Time. Like most of her statues, her face had been gouged out, her wings cut off and left in pieces at her feet.

Calcifer chirped beside her. “No,” she said. “I don’t really do prayer.”

It felt too much like bowing to someone who’d done nothing to earn it. Sure, people whispered of blessings and miracles, but Taly had never seen evidence of either—not when it mattered, not when the city was falling, not when the people she loved were dying.

If any god or goddess wanted her devotion, they’d have to work for it.

Calcifer hopped off the pew and nudged her ankle with his head, then gave her skirts a pointed tug. The look he gave her said it all: Better safe than sorry.

Taly growled under her breath. “Okay, fine.” The little gremlin was right. She was already neck-deep in shit. What did she have to lose?

Rising from the pew, she approached the goddess of Time. She didn’t kneel. She didn’t bow her head.

“I’m here. You want me? Then give me a reason.”

Calcifer chuffed beside her, tail thumping once.

“What?” she muttered. “It still counts.”

Bells chimed, and a soft rustling of whispers stirred in the quiet of the temple.

There was a pop of magic.

Taly grabbed the folded slip of paper that appeared out of nothing like a message from the divine itself.

She glanced at Calcifer, who mewled. “No, I don’t think this is how prayers are usually answered,” she said, letting him sniff the slip of paper.

Flipping open the note, she realized—this hadn’t been an act of the divine.

Just Azura.

Just two lines.

Taly’s stomach plummeted.

I’m sorry.

One day you’ll understand that it had be this way.

The temple suddenly felt too still. Calcifer let out a low growl.

Then a voice—smooth, male, and laced with a sinister familiarity—drawled from behind her, “I do hope I’m not interrupting.”

Taly crumpled the note in a trembling hand, clutching it tight to her chest.

Slowly, she turned.

Atop the holy dais, the figure of a man lounged in the central throne. Bright blue eyes gleamed from the shadows. Candlelight skimmed the snowy white of his hair.

Kalahad Brenin.

She knew him instantly—both the man and the thing inside him.

Taly swallowed. “Hello, Bill.”